


Dust

by sqort



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqort/pseuds/sqort
Summary: (WIP) Wild West AU for Overwatch. Jesse McCree's reign of crime has finally come to an end, but a mysterious archer has use of him, and a proposal of business.Still active! Just slow updating.





	Dust

**Author's Note:**

> My first true AU fic. Please let me know what you think!  
> I am always looking to improve, and hopefully that shows over each chapter in the future.  
> Also my first Overwatch fic I've published here.

The coach passed through town solemnly, silently- a hushed veil falling over the town as a small procession seemed to form. Onlookers stared, eyes locked on the bound form hunched over on the back of the wagon. An outlaw, displayed like a trophy for all to see in his humiliating state. His defeat was the downfall of a twenty year running record, an elegy of crime that had plagued the West a decade too long.   
Now, he was on the road to death row. 

Time seemed eternal, each second an hour as the horses trotted slowly to the gallows. He could see the noose clear as day from his spot- no doubt they'd have him hanged on display like a trophy buck.   
Eventually the driver gave a tug in the reins and they were slowing to a halt. He was harshly dragged onto his feet, but he continued to keep his head down. A small crowd had gathered around his impending demise: the final blow of humility before the grim reaper had his head. The boards beneath him creaked as he took his spot in the middle of the gallows, center stage for his final act. The headsman fitted the noose around his neck, tightening it until the outlaw could feel his pulse hammering against the rope. He finally looked up, only to catch the eye of a figure staring intently into his eyes with their own. They were a cold grey, but a fire was stirring behind them in a passionate inferno. The intensity of his expression was intriguing, and it had him wondering what exactly this stranger had against him.   
He had very little time to think on it as he was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by the executioner's heavy footsteps thudding near him. He could practically hear the timer of his life ticking down, tick by tick. No amount of courage he mustered could pass the dread that shot through him like piercing ice as his breath was stolen from him, the floor beneath him dropping. It left him suspended from his throat to choke helplessly at the air like a fish out of water.

There was a loud  _ thunk  _ above his head, and the beginnings of a panic among the crowd. __  
The rope’s threads were breaking from tension after the majority were severed by a slender arrow just inches above his skull. His body crashed to the ground, sending him into a coughing fit. There were shouts and gunshots, but he could hardly hear over the blood rushing through his ears. A figure loomed over him, grabbing him by his binds to tug him to his feet.  He was dragged along, feet struggling to keep up, furthering his state of dazed, light-headed confusion. Gunshots chased them in their escape, but then his supposed savior was dragging him into a saloon's cellar storage, slamming the ground doors behind him.   
He parted his lips with questions ready to fly, but the stranger just clapped a hand over his mouth. They pressed a finger to their lips to hush him, glaring. It was the same stranger from the crowd, those steel-grey eyes piercing through his amber ones. They gave a warning look, pulling out a bow he hadn't realized they'd had on them from a blue quiver.   
"Jesse McCree." they spoke, eyeing him from the side. Their voice was firm, grounding.   
"That's the name." he shrugged, finding it rather difficult to make the sarcastic gestures he wanted to with his arms tied to his sides. He was going to say more, but the look he received indicated that they weren't done speaking.   
“You are a legend amongst these people, no? What a surprise to finally find, only to see you ready to hang like a wrung chicken."   
Jesse put on a lopsided grin, but silently his ego was rearing like an angered bull.   
"Looks like you lassoed the stallion in his last rodeo." He kept his charismatic smile as the archer rolled his eyes, “Now, d'ya mind tellin’ me why you busted my sorry hide out a’ death row?”

The stranger steeled his face into one of cold concentration, looking him dead in the eyes.

“I am offering a… ‘business’ opportunity. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, at least let me know the name a’ my employer.”

They narrowed their eyes.

“Hanzo.”

Jesse rolled the name around in his head, picking it apart to the best of his ability to possibly learn more about the mysterious stranger. It sounded foreign- incredibly foreign. He briefly wondered how he'd been around so long, but it was safe to presume that he was an outlaw too. An elusive one at that- he'd never seen any of their wanted posters before, let alone a name like his.

“Hanzo…” he repeated back, feeling it roll off his tongue, “I like it.”

Hanzo scoffed and turned back to the cellar doors, once again standing sentry.

“So when's my guardian angel gonna untie me? I might accept that offer.”

“When you stop talking, cowboy.”

He clicked his tongue, tutting. Nice to know his rescuer was so drawn into himself. Jesse would comment on it, but the doors started to creak and rattle as someone violently jostled them.

He could hear voices outside, and suddenly a gunshot rang through the cramped cellar. Bits of shattered lock peppered the small stairway downward, and Hanzo stumbled back in surprise. No doubt his ears were ringing.

The archer scrambled to his feet, yanking Jesse along for the second time that day. A group of people cascaded down the steps just as their tail ends clambered out of the trap door leading to the saloon. He kicked the hatch shut as more shots rang out behind them.

They were suddenly the main attraction of the bar's patrons as they vaulted over the counter and pushed over chairs, regardless if people we sitting in them or not. Jesse was barely managing to keep up, missing arms to balance with, but Hanzo didn't seem to care.

They busted through the swinging doors and broke towards to the hitching post just outside.

The three horses were pretty nervous already, so actually getting on one proved to be a challenge. 

Hanzo hoisted Jesse onto the saddle in front of him and gripped the reins. It didn't take much to spook the horse after that, the cheap rope snapping with a loud crackle as the beast reared and took off. Bullets whizzed by, sparking adrenaline in their hearts as the wind whipped by their hunched forms. Eventually, they broke the town's limits and ventured out into the desert. 

With the added weight of two people, the horse very quickly tired, but the town was barely a speck on the horizon now. It was safe to say they probably hadn't mounted up and followed- either that or the horses had given too much trouble in their startled state.

Hanzo pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a halt near a cluster of dried brush. The beast was wheezing when they dismounted, electing to immediately drop to a lay in the dirt.

A moment of silence passed, and Jesse was the one to break it.

“Suppose I owe ya’ now, don't I?”

“You very much do, cowboy.” the archer scoffed, still sweating from a mixture of the heat and the previous escape. Hanzo wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Jesse hadn't noticed before, given their state of panic, but there was a tattoo coiling around Hanzo's bicep, wrapping around all the way to his wrist. It was some sort of Eastern dragon weaving through clouds and lightning in dark, navy blue ink. It was mesmerizing, and he didn't even notice he was staring. 

The archer narrowed his eyes at him, shrugging his shoulder to catch his attention. Jesse snapped back to reality, blinking.

“For someone so infamous for their focus, you are not very attentive to the task at hand.” Hanzo remarked, alluding to Jesse being noted as “the quickest hand in the west” by several travelers.

“I reckon the same t'you.” The cowboy nodded towards a rattlesnake coiled near Hanzo's feet, grinning childishly.

He gave an uncharacteristic jump away from the snake, whipping out his bow to fire, and miss, an arrow. Thankfully, the reptile didn't seem too interested, slithering off from the point of impact.

“Scared 'a snakes?” he snorted, earning practically a snarl. He was clearly offended.

“I am the dragon of the North. I do not  _ fear  _ anything.”

“Dragon 'a the North… Sounds a little pretentious, don't ya’ think?”

Hanzo's ego was beginning to flame, and Jesse could tell.

“Well, that makes me the dragon 'a the West, don't it?”

His anger seemed to level at that point, and he just blew air through his nose.

“Shut up, cowboy. You are lucky I decided to save you.”

“Could still untie me,” Jesse huffed, “Ain't like I'll kill ya’.”

“Like I said-” he repeated, making a shushing gesture.

He rolled his eyes and dropped to a sit in the dirt, glancing up at the sky.

The sun was starting to set now, halfway tucked under the orange offing while it made the horizon glow. It left only the barest hint of stars to flicker through the remaining sunlight, leaving Jesse yearning to gaze upon them again. Yesterday could have been the last time he saw them.

His smile faded as he thought on it more, reminded of his own mortality catching up to him. The orange sky slowly darkened into a deep, endless black, interspersed with twinkling, bright stars. A new moon was barely visible through the vast expanse, only the barest sliver of white shining along the rim of it. Jesse lingered on it for some time, closing his eyes to think for a short moment. To think today could have been his last was somewhat staggering. Now he was with a complete bitter stranger that only had business interest- no doubt they'd kill him when they had no more use of him. The more he thought on it, the more he started to distrust Hanzo and his plans. But what choice did he have? Right now he was stuck in the middle of the desert, arms strapped to his sides, effectively leaving him at the mercy of the archer.

Jesse grunted as Hanzo sat beside him so abruptly. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, scanning for any ulterior motive. 

Hanzo looked calculative, visage steeled into one of sharp disdain. It was almost impossible to read into beyond the surface.

“If you wish to survive the night, I suggest you stay close.” He didn't seem too happy about it, judging by his snide tone. Hanzo begrudgingly huddled up to Jesse, seeming physically disgusted at their contact. Jesse decided to make the most of it.

He leaned on him with all his weight, snorting in childish amusement when he hunched over and snarled at him.

“Wassa’ matter dragon a’ the North? Scared of little old me, too?”

Hanzo's fiery glare settled on him, a warning that would drive anyone other than the over-confident Jesse away. The cowboy just grinned.

“Get your dirty paws off of me, cowboy!” he hissed, shoving him off before crossing his arms over his chest. Jesse halfway raised his hands in mock surrender, shrugging.

“Suit yerself.”

The rest of the night was a petty struggle between Hanzo acting like an offended house cat each time Jesse touched him, until he finally gave in and rested next to him, back to him.

Jesse lay on his back, staring up at the stars once again. It was hard to think that he would stargaze at the same exact sky in his youth, nearly every day until now. To him, it was somewhat of a tradition to get lost in those twinkling specks of light.

This time, he wasn't thinking back on mortality, but the future. He could see himself continuing on his wayward lifestyle until he grew old and weary. Maybe he'd find a nice rocker outside a general goods store that he could spend his last years in.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Hanzo beginning to snore, his posture considerably more relaxed than when he was awake. Jesse turned away from him and shut his eyes, drifting off after him.


End file.
